


#badman

by 1VulgarWoman



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Online Romance, Porn With Plot, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-16 02:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18682720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1VulgarWoman/pseuds/1VulgarWoman
Summary: MMA champion, Vegeta Prince, is trending on social media, and he isn’t exactly happy about it. When rumors about his dark past threaten his career, he finds an unlikely fan in genius scientist and influencer, Bulma Briefs. The two begin to explore an online connection that quickly turns steamy, but the secrets of Vegeta’s past stand in the way of moving their virtual romance into the real world. On his journey to atone for former sins, Vegeta must face down his demons and find the courage to show the world, and Bulma, his true self.





	1. Slide Into My Inbox

**Author's Note:**

> Otherwise known as, I wanted to write sexting smut and a plot somehow grew around that. Don’t judge me. 🤷
> 
> Hi, friends! It’s Mini Bang time! I’ve been working on this story for the past couple months, and I’m SO excited to finally be able to share it with you all.
> 
> Posting will happen daily, with maybe one day between chapters at some point this week. Please be aware, if the rating, tags, and summary haven’t already clued you in, that this story contains explicit sexual content and adult language and is not suitable for readers under 18 (like everything I write, tbh🙈).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful cover art by Tepepany (twitter:@SGreeneArt).

Cold. 

Everything felt cold and hollow. He saw no light at the end of the tunnel. Only smoke and an endless expanse of moonlit sand. 

From his place on the blood-stained ground (his own blood, he realized with a detached sort of wonder) he looked up into the barrel of his enemy’s gun. 

This was it. He had failed, and the price of failure was his life. 

A tall figure stepped into his eye-line, footsteps muffled by the ringing in his ears. 

He could still hear the gunfire, though. It was muted, but it was there. The metallic ring of shots fired. The sickening thunk of bullets hitting flesh. 

His own voice, a haunting echo inside his head. 

“Kakarot! No!”

~ 0 ~ 

Vegeta sat up in bed, gasping, as the Afghan desert slowly faded into the clean white walls of his bedroom. 

He rubbed at the phantom ache above his right pectoral, half expecting to feel the sticky heat of blood. Instead, his fingertips caressed a puckered scar. 

He reached for his phone. It was early, but there was a text from his manager. 

_‘Vegeta, I need to see you in my office first thing. Don’t bother calling. Just come.’_

He groaned and tossed the phone onto the bedspread, raking his fingertips through his hair. 

An hour later, he strode into his manager’s office. 

“Nappa.”

The mustachioed giant of a man scowled at him over his laptop screen. He looked pissed. 

“Vegeta. Have a seat.”

The laptop spun around on the desktop, revealing a paused video clip from ESPN News. 

“What’s this all about, Nappa?”

“Just watch.”Nappa hit the space bar, and the frozen anchor spoke. 

“…reigning UFC lightweight champion and former Green Beret, Vegeta Prince.”

His picture appeared in the upper corner of the screen, face bloodied almost beyond recognition and the championship belt held above his head. 

“While serving on his second tour of duty in Afghanistan, Prince faced court marshal for the alleged murder of his commanding officer and the attempted murder of a fellow soldier.”

The picture was replaced by a short video clip of Vegeta stalking down the street in a black hoodie, scowling at the swarm of paparazzi. His middle fingers had been censored for public television. 

“The charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence, but the incident brought Prince’s military career to a screeching halt. The soldier Prince was rumored to have…”

Kakarot’s smiling face appeared in the corner of the screen, and the anchor fell silent as Vegeta slammed the laptop closed. 

“I’ve heard enough. What’s your point?”

“My point,” Nappa growled, “is since this aired last night, my phone has been ringing off the hook with calls from sponsors threatening to pull your funding. And apparently there’s some ‘wives of wounded warriors something-or-other’ that’s started a petition to have you removed from the league.”

Vegeta groaned. He could feel a headache building behind his temples. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” the taller man demanded. 

Vegeta shrugged. “Wasn’t any of your damn business.”

Nappa’s fist came down on the desktop. “You are my damn business, literally.”

“How was I supposed to know some idiot news reporter would go digging into the past? Besides, I don’t know why you’re bothering me about this. Isn’t PR part of what I pay you for?”

The sudden turn of Nappa’s expression from angry to smug put Vegeta on edge. 

“Hand over your phone.”

“What?!”

Nappa extended one massive paw.“You heard me.”

Vegeta grumbled under his breath but did as Nappa demanded. When he got his phone back, there was an unfamiliar app open on the screen with his name at the top and a couple photos from past fights. 

“What the hell is this?”

Nappa smirked. 

“Vegeta, meet your Instagram page. You two are about to be spending a lot of time together, so get comfortable.”

Vegeta scoffed. “Isn’t this foolishness part of your job?”

“Maybe later, when you’re back in the world’s good graces, I’ll find you a social media coordinator to take this over, but for now, it’s your job. Unless you’d rather wait tables…”

“Fine,” Vegeta growled. “Show me how to work the damn thing.”

Nappa showed him the basic functions of the app, which seemed simple enough. 

“Fantastic. I still don’t understand why the hell you don’t just…”

“Because this needs to be personal,” Nappa cut him off. “I need you to show the world that Vegeta Prince is a human being and not some grumpy alien who’s only hobby is beating people to a pulp.”

Vegeta huffed a small chuckle. “Sounds accurate.”

“Maybe, but America doesn’t need to know that. They need to see a normal, nice guy who just happens to make his living as a fighter. A guy they can relate too.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Look, I’m not asking you to magically morph into the Dali Lama, here. Just post a few meal prep shots and ‘dish’ about your favorite workout routines. People go nuts for that stuff.”

“You want me to…what?” 

Nappa sighed. 

“Give it here.” He tapped the screen a few times before handing it back to Vegeta. 

“Check out this guy’s page.”

Vegeta’s nose wrinkled. He knew this guy. A clown of a professional baseball player who didn’t deserve the title of world-class athlete. The guy was a moron. 

“You cannot be serious!”

“Yamcha is one of my most lucrative clients,” Nappa explained. “He has over a million followers, of which you are now one. Your homework for today is to scroll through his page and choose a post to emulate. I expect to see it in my feed by six o’clock.”

Vegeta switched off the screen and shoved his phone into his pocket. 

“And just what will you be doing while I humiliate myself with this absurd thing?”

“I will be handling damage control that might not have been necessarily if you had been straight with me in the first place.”

The ache inside Vegeta’s scull was now a full-fledged pounding. 

“Fine. Just remember this was your dumb idea, so don’t blame me when I make it worse.”

“Noted. Now get out of here. I have a million calls to make.”

“Gladly.”

Vegeta was halfway out the door when Nappa called out behind him. 

“Vegeta?”

He grunted, turning back. 

“Did you do it?”

Vegeta felt his expression harden as he eyed the man behind the desk. 

“You know what. Never mind.” Nappa held up his hands. “Just…do your homework.”

His back was already turned, but Vegeta still rolled his eyes. 

~ 0 ~ 

The façade of Kame House Rehabilitation Center was cheerful with its salmon-colored stucco and rows of swaying palm trees. A stark contrast to what Vegeta expected to find within. 

He’d sat here many times in the past two years, staring through his windshield at the red letters painted above the door, but he had never gone in. Once, he’d gotten out of his car, as he did now. He had turned back then; today, he entered.

“I’m here to see Kakarot Son,” he told the nurse behind the front desk. 

“Mr. Son already has visitors, but you’re welcome to wait.”

Vegeta nodded and slouched into one of the lumpy armchairs in the waiting area. 

“You’re Vegeta Prince!”

His head snapped up at the sound of his name. 

A small, dark-haired boy was standing right in front of him, wide-eyed and grinning. 

Vegeta acknowledged him with a terse nod. 

When the boy spoke again, the words spilled out and ran together in a single, long sentence. 

“My mom says I’m not allowed to watch violence, but I watch all your fights online when she’s not around. I want to be a great fighter like you some day. Can I have your autograph?”

Vegeta didn’t like kids, but there was something in the boy’s determined expression that reminded him of himself.

“Sure, kid.”

The boy ran to the desk to ask for a piece of paper and a pen before running back over. Vegeta took them and scrawled his name. His handwriting was barely readable, but the child seemed pleased. 

“Awesome. Thanks, Mr.Vegeta.”

“No problem, kid.”

Vegeta paused for a moment, not sure what had come over him, before reaching out to ruffle the boy’s dark mop of hair. This earned him a wide smile and a childish giggle. 

There was a foreign pulling around the corners of his mouth that Vegeta couldn’t control. For the first time since he’d opened his eyes that morning, the day didn’t seem so horrible. 

“Gohan! Gohan, where are you?”

A woman with dark hair tied back in a stark bun and eyes red with tears rounded the corner. 

“There you are. You were supposed to wait in the hallway.”

The boy was in the process of explaining himself when the woman’s gaze fixed on Vegeta. Her brows drew together as she regarded him before recognition dawned over her features. 

“You. I saw you on…You’re the one who did this to him!”

By the time she was done speaking, her voice was raised enough to draw the attention of several onlookers. 

Vegeta stood, mouth gaping open in confusion, as the woman continued to berate him, her pointer finger jabbing the air between them. 

“You’re the reason he doesn’t remember his own son!”

Realization washed over Vegeta at the same moment Kakarot’s concerned face appeared around the corner. 

“What’s going on?” Kakarot asked nobody in particular, his expression one of confused innocence that looked out of place on the face of a hardened warrior. 

Strange, Vegeta thought, how someone could look the same, yet completely different. 

“You…you hurt my daddy?”

Vegeta’s eyes were drawn from Kakarot’s face to a smaller version. He wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. The boy was his father’s spitting image. 

There was nothing he could say. He didn’t know what he had hoped to gain by visiting the hollow shell of his former rival, but this was clearly a mistake. 

“What, did you come to finish the job?” Kakarot’s wife was in his face again, her cheeks wet with angry tears. 

Small, feminine fists pounded against his chest, and Vegeta stood frozen in place, too stunned to do anything but absorb the weak blows. 

She was still yelling at him, cursing him. Murderer. Monster. Traitor. Nothing he hadn’t heard before, but this time, it stung. 

“Chichi, calm down.” 

Kakarot’s voice was gentle, placating, as he pried his sobbing wife away from Vegeta. She turned and clung to the shell of her husband fiercely, and the visible discomfort this caused him was painful to watch. He patted her shoulder. Tried to soothe her. Kakarot had always been noble like that. 

“Oh, Kakarot. I miss you so much,” she sobbed into his neck, refusing to be pushed aside. 

“Chichi, we’ve been over this. My name is Goku. This Kakarot, your husband…I’m not him.”

“Come on, Mom.”

Vegeta’s eyes locked on the tear-streaked face of Kakarot’s son, all but forgotten during his mother’s outburst. A strange ache blossomed in the center of his chest. 

“Mom. Come on.”

The boy tugged on his mother’s jacket, and she reluctantly released Kakarot from her one-sided embrace. 

She allowed a nurse to usher her towards the door, head down and sobbing pitifully, her anger long spent. 

The boy lingered a moment longer, his little face creased with a look of disgust that shook Vegeta to his core. 

“I hate you,” he whimpered as the crumpled sheet of notebook paper bearing the autograph of his fallen idol drifted to the floor. 

Vegeta stood rooted to the spot after they left, Kakarot’s towering form between him and the exit. 

Once they were safely alone, the taller man spoke. 

“Was Chichi right? Are you…who she said you were?”

Steeling his pride, Vegeta drew himself to his full hight, unimpressive as it was, tilting his chin to look into the eyes of the man whose life he had destroyed. He had postponed this moment for two years. He wouldn’t back down now. 

“I am.”

Kakarot — or was it Goku, now? — nodded, regarding him not with the rage or hatred Vegeta had expected, but with calm curiosity. 

_Hit me,_ Vegeta silently prayed. _Hit me. Fight me. Destroy me, like I destroyed you. Make it right._

But the blow didn’t come. 

Vegeta felt his pride roar inside him, screaming that even now, even as this stranger called Goku, Kakarot was a better man than he would ever be. 

With a huff, he stepped around Goku, all but jogging towards the door. 

“Will you come back?”

Vegeta turned, studying his former rival’s expression in shock. It was harder now, but there was still no hatred there. 

“Why would you…?”

“If what Chichi said is right, you owe me.”

It wasn’t an explanation, but Vegeta couldn’t argue with the truth, as much as he despised it. 

He answered with a terse nod, then turned and left. 

~ 0 ~ 

Vegeta’s muscles screamed at him as he pressed the bar over his head again. He had long since stopped counting. 

Vegeta had been punishing himself in his basement gym going on three hours now. Everything hurt, and he was glad. If Kakarot wouldn’t beat him to a pulp, he would do it himself. 

At the top of his next rep, he felt his wrist give out. 

“Fuck,” he growled as the barbell and a couple hundred pounds of plates came crashing down, bouncing a few times on the rubber floor. 

He turned and jabbed his fists again and again into the padded wall, yelling curses in the quiet, echoing space. 

A vibration in his pocket distracted him from his tirade, and he reached inside to pull his phone out. 

_‘Homework’,_ was all Nappa had written. 

Of all the stupid things to worry about on a day like this. 

A minute later, his screen lit up again. 

_‘Do it, or I’ll book you for a guest appearance on Sesame Street.’_

Vegeta groaned. 

“Fine,” he grumbled to the empty room. 

He positioned himself in front of the mirrored wall, turned on his phone camera, and snapped a picture. Without giving it a second glance, he opened that idiotic app and started a new post the way Nappa had shown him. 

He typed a quick list of exercises he’d done in the caption, which was easy enough. Fighting. Training. Results. These were things he knew. Things he was comfortable with.

He glanced at the picture long enough to see that he had gotten a decent pump from his torture session of a workout. If the brief glance he’d given that idiot’s page was anything to go by, this should appease the bloodthirsty masses. For now. 

~ 0 ~ 

An hour later, he was slumped against his dark leather sofa, dwindling bottle of whisky cradled in the crook of his arm. 

The room was beginning to blur around the edges, and with it, the memory of Kakarot’s wife’s tearful accusations. Of a little boy’s accusatory stare. Of his wounded pride demanding justice no one seemed willing to dole out. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket again, and he pulled it out, half determined to smash it against the nearest wall. But something caught his eye. 

Was that…blue hair? The picture was tiny, a square smaller than his pinky nail. He squinted to try to get a better look. 

_‘Thebulmabriefs left a comment on your post,’_ the notification read. 

The name didn’t ring a bell, but it’s not like he had anything better to do. 

He swiped the notification, and his eyebrows rose in surprise as he read what the blue-haired woman had written. 

_‘Holy shit. I want to lick your abs.😋’_

“What the…” he exclaimed into the empty house. “Vulgar-ass woman.”

Curious, he tapped the tiny picture beside the name ‘thebulmabriefs’ and a larger version filled the upper corner of the screen. 

A sparkling blue eye winked at him from her profile photo. Her pink lips were curled up in a mischievous grin. 

She was pretty. Really pretty. A pretty woman who dyes her shoulder-length hair blue and makes lewd comments to total strangers. She’s got guts, this Bulma Briefs. 

A blank space below her picture with the words ‘this profile is set to private’ splashed across it taunted him. The alcohol running through his veins was making him do stupid things. Things like touch the request button next to her name. 

He almost had time to regret it, but before he could work up a good panic, she filled the screen. 

And she wasn’t just pretty, he realized. She was fucking gorgeous. 

Among the multitude of sexy, posed shots, one in particular caught his eye. She was wearing a lab coat and goggles, and there was a screwdriver in her hand. It was her smile that captured him. A genuine, ecstatic smile. She was luminous. 

_‘It’s alive! Three years of blood, sweat, and tears finally paid off. Time to head down to the patent office.😎’_

He read her caption with a grin, letting his eyes linger on that captivating smile. 

His phone vibrated in his hand, and the inbox icon at the top of the screen showed one new message. 

He tapped it and held his breath as the message flashed across his screen. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Hey, homeboy. 😘**

Vegeta raised the bottle to his lips for a long, bracing pull before setting it aside. 

Hitting the reply button, he simply typed, ‘hi.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you tomorrow! 
> 
> In the mean time, come find me on Tumblr (1VulgarWoman) and Twitter (@1Vulgar), and be sure to check out the rest of the Mini Bang fics!


	2. Mirror Selfie

It had been a long week. 

Between having the darkest moments of his life become a topic of locker room gossip and his hated social media ‘homework,’ Vegeta felt drained. 

On top of everything else, his promise to visit Goku hung over his head like a storm cloud. He would be true to his word; it was only a matter of when. 

Vegeta had never thought of himself as a good man, but he was honorable. He paid his debts. 

There was one unexpected bright spot that had become a fixture of his daily routine. One person whose intrusion into his life didn’t make him want to hang himself. 

Her name popped up on his phone screen as he jogged on the treadmill, a welcome break from the gloominess of his inner monologue. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Whatcha doin’?**

Vegeta shook his head, but he could feel his traitorous lips quirking up around the edges. 

The way she wrote made it easy to imagine what her voice must sound like. He could almost picture her sidling up to his treadmill, gazing at him with those innocent-looking eyes. 

_“Whatcha doin’?”_

_“Warming up.”_

_“Hmm. Why don’t ya’ warm me up instead, daddy?”_

Vegeta shook his head to clear it before that train of thought went any further off the rails. 

He forced himself to wait until he finished his run to reply. Distractions, even pleasant ones, where something he could afford less than ever. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Training. You?**

He pressed send, then forced himself to put the phone down until he’d finished his first set of deadlifts. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Oh, yeah? Send me a pic.😉**

Vegeta looked down at his ratty sweatsuit and tried to force himself to stop panicking. 

**Vegeta_Prince: You first.**

He hit send with a shaking finger before ripping off his hoodie. While he was doing the hastiest hundred pushups of his life, her reply lit up his screen.

The phone was just close enough for him to catch a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage revealed by an otherwise work-appropriate dress. She was wearing the lab coat again. That lab coat did things to him he would never admit to aloud. 

Neither would he admit to the absurd amount of time he was spending on this photo. After finishing his pushups, he inspected his reflection with a critical eye usually reserved for fighting technique. 

He tugged at the waist of his sweats until they hung below the band of his underwear. Bulma had made a comment about the cuts on the insides of his hip bones once, and he wanted to make sure they were visible. He was becoming pathetic. 

After finger-combing his wild hair into some semblance of order, he positioned himself in front of the mirror in a way he hoped would look nonchalant. He had never realized looking effortless required so much effort. 

Vegeta snapped the picture and forced himself not to analyze it too closely before hitting send. There was no way he was going to stoop even lower by retaking it. He had to draw the line somewhere, and that included standing around staring at his phone like an idiot waiting for her reply. 

He forced himself to focus on his next set, blaming the pounding in his chest on the exercise rather than the new message notification that echoed in the quiet room. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Wow. Just…wow.**

Vegeta smiled to himself. Her lewd comments typically made him blush fifty shades of crimson, but the thought of such a stunning woman being rendered speechless by him made something warm and foreign well up inside his chest. 

He was about to put the phone down to start his next set when another message appeared. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Damn it, Vegeta, you’re sexy. Like, soooo freakin’ sexy. And I know we’ve only been messaging each other for two weeks and we haven’t even spoken on the phone, but I can tell you’re smart. And hardworking. And really sweet underneath that bad boy exterior.**

There was a long pause as Vegeta stood frozen, staring at his phone with wide eyes. He could see from the three blinking dots at the bottom of the screen that she was still typing. He held his breath until her next message appeared. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Basically, I’m just trying to say I like you a lot. We haven’t talked about it, but I don’t believe any of the things they say you did, in the past. There must have been some misunderstanding. I just feel it.**

He should reply. He should tell her he liked her too, that he was certain she was the woman of his dreams without even speaking on the phone. Maybe ask if she’d like him to call her soon. 

Vegeta shook his head. He should tell her that she was wrong, that he wasn’t a good man. That she didn’t know him at all and, if she did, she would be disappointed. He was nowhere near good enough for her, and she deserved to know it before things went any further. 

Maybe he shouldn’t respond at all. He could quietly disappear from her life as if he had never been there. Leave her radiance unmarried by the ugliness that plagued him. 

His thumbs hovered over the screen as he warred with himself. Before he could come to a decision, another message appeared. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Anyways, I know I’m interrupting your training. You can message me back later.**

Vegeta breathed a sigh of relief. She had taken the decision out of his hands, at least for the moment. Refocusing his energy, he pushed himself through the rest of his workout. 

~ 0 ~

The sun was hanging low on the horizon when he read her messages for the second time. He was sprawled across the cold tiles of his kitchen floor, half-empty whisky bottle beside him. 

Vegeta was saying goodbye. Not to Bulma directly; just in his own head. It was better that way. 

He read her sweet words before scrolling through her pictures again, letting her happiness and beauty warm his heart for the last time. Then he hit the unfollow button. 

An hour later, his cheek was pressed against the tile. The empty bottle had rolled into a corner somewhere out of sight. 

Why hadn’t he passed out yet? He longed for the oblivion of sleep, but the ache in his chest wouldn’t let him rest. He had never felt so alone. 

_What the fuck am I doing?_

The room tilted as he reached for his phone. It took several tries, but his shaking hands finally found the request button.

He curled up in a tight ball as the minutes passed and her pictures didn’t appear. There was only silence as the screen went dark, and the tile grew wet under his cheek. 

Vegeta didn’t know how long he lay there like that. It could have been hours or minutes. But, at some point, his phone lit up again. 

He snatched it up, bleary eyes squinting to make out the words. 

_‘thebulmabriefs has accepted your request’_

With fumbling hands, he opened the app and navigated to her profile, sighing in relief as her smiling face appeared. He tapped the private message icon. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Bulma?**

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when those three little dots started blinking. 

**Thebulmabriefs Yes?**

He battled the sudden lethargy that threatened to pull him under and hastily typed a reply. 

**Vegeta_Prince: I suck at this.**

**Vegeta_Prince: I want you. But I’m no good for you.**

There was a loaded pause as he awaited her response. 

**Thebulmabriefs: I’m a big girl. Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, k?**

Vegeta managed to type ‘okay’ before his heavy eyelids slipped closed. 

~ 0 ~

It was well into the afternoon when he left his house the next day. 

His neck was sore from spending the night on the kitchen floor, and he was nursing a raging hangover. Yet somehow he found himself staring up at the red letters above the door of Kame House, trying to talk himself into going inside. 

_Just do it,_ he chastised himself. _Don’t be a fucking coward._

The receptionist helped him sign in and pointed him in the direction of Goku’s room. Before he reached it, the taller man came around the corner. 

“Hey!” Goku waved as soon as he caught sight of him, and Vegeta froze, mouth hanging open in shock. 

He blinked and found himself handcuffed to a narrow hospital bed. Faceless uniforms hovered around him, barking questions he countered with a single, slurred answer. 

“I killed them. Frieza and Son. It was me. I shot them. It was me.”

 _It was me._

“Hey, man. You okay?”

Vegeta blinked again, and Goku’s concerned expression swam into focus. 

“I’m fine.”

Goku accepted his reassurances without question, much to Vegeta’s relief, motioning for him to follow. 

They emerged from the sterile-smelling air into a sunlit garden.

There were lush, green vines snaking up the walls and a soft carpet of closely-cut grass underfoot. A small fountain filled the space with its pleasant tinkling. Several wooden benches were scattered around the periphery of the green space, but the two of them were its only current occupants. 

Goku stopped in the middle and turned to face Vegeta, his pleasant smile transformed into something more determined. 

“So,” he began, his fists balling up at his sides, “I hear you’re a pretty good fighter.” 

Vegeta gaped at him. Was he finally going to challenge him? Exact his revenge?

“Actually, one of the nurses let me borrow a computer so I could watch some of your fights.”

Vegeta tamped down his rising panic. 

“You…you know who I am?”

“The boy — Gohan — he dropped that piece of paper with your name on it.”

Vegeta hid his relief as carefully as he had hidden his panic. 

“Oh.”

“I can’t remember ever being anyone but Goku.” He looked down at the grass between them, guilt he had no right to take upon himself etched into his face. “But I do still know some things. I just don’t remember how I know.”

“What things?”

Goku’s somber expression lightened a little with the barest hint of a grin as he dropped into a fighting stance. 

“Try to hit me, and I’ll show you.”

~ 0 ~

Vegeta sipped his bottled water as he wandered around Goku’s small bedroom. 

There was a hospital bed that barely looked big enough for a grown man and a single window looking out over the parking lot. But there were personal touches too. 

Vegeta stopped in front of a bulletin board covered in pencil sketches, his brow creasing as he tried to decipher the images. They weren’t professional by any means, but good enough that he could make out what they were. 

A shadow fell across the drawings as Goku came up behind him, looking over his shoulder. 

“Sometimes, when I dream, I see flashes of things the doctors tell me might be memories, so they say I should try to draw ‘em. They probably don’t mean anything, though.”

Vegeta pointed to a sketch of a long rectangular room with rows of bunk beds lining the walls. 

“That looks like the barracks we lived in during basic training.”

“You were in the army too?”

Vegeta nodded, his shoulders tensing as he feared where this line of questioning could lead. 

Helping Goku remember how to fight was one thing; discussing the past was another. 

He looked down at the mess of half-done drawings on the small desk, and the one on top caught his eye. A dark-hair woman with a face he remembered all too well smiled up from the drawing, her generous bosom framed in a form-fitting sundress.

He looked back at Goku with a raised brow, earning an embarrassed chuckle. 

“That one wasn’t a dream, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I can’t believe a woman like that would ever go for me.”

“Of course she would. She’s your wife.”

Goku’s grin faded. 

“Chichi was Kakarot’s wife. She isn’t interested in getting to know me. She just wants him back.”

Vegeta didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good at this stuff. Any of it. 

“I should, uh…” He gestured towards the door. 

Goku nodded. “Thanks for sparring with me. Let’s do it again some time.”

Vegeta agreed, his resolve taking shape as he made his way to the car. 

Kakarot deserved to start a new life for himself as Goku, and Vegeta suspected there might be a way to help him do it. 

Goku’s fighting technique was excellent. A little rusty from disuse, but he had always been a gifted fighter. 

When they’d sparred, Vegeta could tell the taller man was going easy on him, and it had stuck in his craw. Goku might be several weight classes above him, but Vegeta was in better shape and more practiced. It made him all the more determined to rectify the injustice of their situation. And he knew exactly how. 

~ 0 ~ 

Vegeta’s feet were propped up on his coffee table as he relaxed on the sofa, phone in hand. 

His chats with Bulma had become a predictable part of his evening routine. As he read long paragraphs about what she’d done at work that day and what her favorite foods were, he felt a pang of guilt for not being as forthcoming with her as she was with him. 

But somehow ‘today, I made a lame attempt to atone for destroying a man’s life’ didn’t seem like something she would want to read. 

So he asked her more about her job as head of Technology and Innovation at her family’s business, and she seemed more than happy to share. It was clear that she loved what she did and was good at it.

Vegeta had never realized how attracted he was to intelligence until Bulma came along. He suspected a lot of men would be intimidated by a woman that much smarter than them, but it only made him admire her more. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Oh, by the way, I got a very special delivery in the mail today.😋**

**Vegeta_Prince: New toys?😉**

**Thebulmabriefs: Haha! Nope. Even better. But you’ll have to wait until morning to find out.**

**Vegeta_Prince: Hint?**

**Thebulmabriefs: It’s got you written all over it. Sleep tight, badman.😘**

**Vegeta_Prince: Goodnight, teasing little minx.**

**Thebulmabriefs:** 😜

The next morning, Vegeta shoveled down mouthfuls of protein pancakes (after posting a picture and recipe, of course) while he waited for the reveal of Bulma’s secret. 

His phone buzzed, and he read the notification eagerly. 

_‘thebulmabriefs tagged you in a post’_

He swiped to open the app, and his jaw almost landed in his lap. 

There she was, bare legged and obviously braless, in his new promotional tee-shirt. 

Vegeta hated that shirt. The idea of random strangers walking around with a picture of his face plastered across their chests and that idiotic hashtag Nappa had come up with on their backs made him cringe so hard he had almost chipped a tooth. 

On Bulma, though…

The black cotton contrasted beautifully with her creamy skin. And there was so much of it showing. The hand not taking the picture tugged down the hem enough to cover the important bits, but that was all. He could see the rounded angles of her hip bones and the entire length of those perfect legs. His printed face was nestled between her breasts, and he could just make out the points of her nipples through the thin cotton. 

It was several minutes before he could tear his eyes away long enough to read her caption, but when he did, his hard-on reached almost painful proportions. 

_‘Good morning, friends. New favorite shirt! Slept last night with my favorite fighter @Vegeta_Prince close to my heart.♥️#badman’_

Vegeta was glad she had made him wait until morning to see this. If he had known she was sleeping somewhere in this city in his tee-shirt and (he assumed) nothing else, there was no way he would have gotten any rest. 

When he looked up at the photo again, he noticed the ‘1 of 2’ in the upper corner and swiped to see the next one. 

His heart skipped several beats as he took in the back view. She was looking over her shoulder at the mirror to capture ‘#badman’ printed in bold letters across her delicate shoulders. Only this time, she wasn’t holding the hem of the shirt down, leaving the lower curve of her ass peeking out at him. 

He saved both photos to his phone before scrolling down to the comments box. 

_‘@thebulmabriefs Looking good,’_ he typed quickly before hitting post. 

Another comment appeared just after his, from @yamcha_bandits69. It was a name he recognized, and it made something dark and possessive rise up inside him. Of course that creep would use the eggplant emoji. He fought the urge to tell that jackass to hike off a mountainside and opened his DMs instead. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Damn, woman, you look so sexy in that shirt. I have to know…**

**Vegeta_Prince: Is there anything underneath?**

Her reply came seconds later. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Not a stitch.**

Vegeta bit his lip until he tasted blood. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Fuck. Now I have to spend the rest of my morning in a cold shower, badwoman.**

**Thebulmabriefs: Haha! Sorry, not sorry. 😈**

**Thebulmabriefs: Heading to work now, but let’s definitely chat later.**

Vegeta closed out the app with a sigh, wondering how this woman had managed to undo him so completely. Later couldn’t come soon enough.

_Gorgeous artwork by King_Geets. (Find her on Twitter and Tumblr.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things really start to heat up next time. 🔥🔥🔥
> 
> Until then, find me on Tumblr (1VulgarWoman) and Twitter (@1Vulgar). See ya’ tomorrow!


	3. NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get 🔥🔥🔥.

**Thebulmabriefs: Ugh, today sucked. I seriously wanted to throttle my assistant.**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Hey, maybe you could teach me how.😏**

Vegeta chuckled to himself as her messages lit up his screen. 

**Vegeta_Prince: No point. You’re too weak and pathetic.**

He could almost feel the ire radiating from the three dancing dots as she typed her reply. 

**Thebulmabriefs: And just how would you know that, buddy?**

****

****

**Vegeta_Prince: I have eyes. You should try death by bitching instead.**

He hit send, then cringed as he read over his words. It was too easy to be himself with Bulma, and he was well aware that ‘himself’ was an asshole. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Ha! Now that I can definitely do.**

Vegeta smiled as her response came through. He liked that he didn’t have to tone down his dry sense of humor for her. In fact, she seemed to ‘get’ it. To get him. 

**Thebulmabriefs: So, you liked my new shirt, huh?**

He squirmed beneath his Egyptian cotton sheets as the image that had haunted him all day flashed to the forefront of his mind. 

**Vegeta_Prince: I liked you in it.**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Aww, that’s so sweet. 🥰**

**Thebulmabriefs: You’re sweet, when you want to be.**

Vegeta shook his head. One minute, she got him, and the next, she was completely delusional. 

**Vegeta_Prince: What are you up to?**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Just got in bed. You?**

****

****

**Vegeta_Prince: Same.**

**Thebulmabriefs: Mmm…I wish we could snuggle. You look like someone who likes to snuggle.**

**Vegeta_Prince: Not usually.**

He hit send, but the thought of Bulma’s disappointed expression had him typing a follow-up seconds later. 

**Vegeta_Prince: However, snuggling with you seems…not unpleasant.**

The tips of his ears were burning as he waited for her to tease him. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Oh, I can assure you it would be very, very pleasant.**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Just imagine me treating you like the luckiest teddy bear in the world. 😙**

Oh, did he imagine it. It was an image he was sure would keep him up all night. 

He lay back against his pillows, visualizing Bulma tangled up in the unmade sheets he had noticed in the background of her selfie, her shapely legs intertwined with his.

There was just one piece he needed to complete the picture. Though his face burned and his palms grew damp with sweat, he typed his most burning question. 

**Vegeta_Prince: What are you wearing?**

He twisted the sheets in one hand as he anxiously awaited her reply. 

**Thebulmabriefs: Wouldn’t you like to know? 😜**

That teasing little minx. She was going to make him be direct. He could do direct. 

**Vegeta_Prince: My shirt?**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Maybe. 😇**

Vegeta growled under his breath. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Send a pic.**

He was almost surprised when she didn’t make him beg. His entire blood volume rushed south as she appeared on the screen. She was reclined in bed, long limbs wrapped around a body pillow. 

_Mine_ , his inner ape roared, beating its chest in glee at the sight of her wearing his name. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Very nice. Anything underneath?**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Just panties.**

****

****

**Vegeta_Prince: Take them off.**

**Thebulmabriefs: Okay. Done. What about you?**

****Vegeta_Prince: Boxers.** **

********

********

**Thebulmabriefs: Lose ‘em, badman.**

Tossing the covers aside, he shimmied his underwear down his legs and kicked them across the room, for once not giving a rip if they didn’t make it into the hamper. 

His heart threatened to pound right out of his chest. Fuck, this was really happening. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Done.**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Mmm…**

**Thebulmabriefs: Are you hard?**

He moaned as he palmed himself, spreading several drops of pre-come with the pad of his thumb. She had no idea. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Yes.**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Are you touching yourself?**

His ears grew hot again, and he tamped down the urge to dive beneath his sheets. Vegeta Prince didn’t back down from a challenge. He needed to regain control of the situation before she had him swooning like a Victorian schoolgirl. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Are you?**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Maybe. Where would you like me to touch myself?**

Now that was more like it. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Hmm…**

He stroked himself slowly as he contemplated all the delicious possibilities. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Play with your tits. Pretend your hands are mine.**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Fuck, that feels good. I wish you were really here.**

For reasons unrelated to arousal, his breath faltered at the thought of bringing this thing between them into the real world. He would examine that feeling at a later date. 

**Vegeta_Prince: What would you do if I was?**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Kiss my way down your stomach.**

**Thebulmabriefs: You have a very kissable stomach.**

**Vegeta_Prince: Mmm. Then what?**

**Thebulmabriefs: I’d find out if you have an equally kissable cock.**

Holy shit. 

It was the response he’d been hoping for, but Vegeta still whimpered, bucking up against his calloused hand. Her soft lips and tongue would feel so much better. 

**Vegeta_Prince: You going to let me fuck that pretty mouth?**

Anxiety struck as soon as he hit send. What if he’d pushed things too far? Crossed the wrong line?

**Thebulmabriefs: Hnnng…Shit. I get so wet when you say things like that, baby.**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: And yes, please.**

****Thebulmabriefs: I want to feel your hands in my hair as I take you all the way down my throat.** **

****

****

Well, fuck. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Tsk, tsk. Such a vulgar little thing. How should I punish you?**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Holy shit, Vegeta. I’m so close to coming already.**

**Vegeta_Prince: Have you been touching yourself?**

**Vegeta_Prince: Without my permission?**

**Thebulmabriefs: Yes. I’ve been a really, really bad girl.**

**Thebulmabriefs: What are you gunna do with me?**

His lip curled up in a wicked grin. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Hmm…Seems like you’re just begging to be held down and spanked.**

****

****

**Vegeta_Prince: Maybe I should make you sit on my face until you can’t stay upright any longer instead.**

**Thebulmabriefs: OMG. YES.**

**Vegeta_Prince: Get on your knees and hold on to your headboard. I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers and imagine it’s my tongue.**

**Vegeta_Prince: Can you do that for me, Bulma?**

**Thebulmabriefs: Yes, please.**

He gave her a few moments to comply before responding. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Did you do as I asked?**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Yes. Shit, Vegeta. I wish you were really here.**

There it was again. That strange anxious sensation he didn’t want to analyze yet. Instead, he deflected. 

**Vegeta_Prince: You going to come for me, Bulma?**

****

****

**Thebulmabriefs: Omg, yes. So close.**

He pumped himself harder, feeling his own release build at the thought of her coming apart to his words. 

**Thebulmabriefs: It’s getting hard to type and touch myself. Wanna Face Time?**

The hand wrapped around his cock froze. This was a line they had never crossed, and though their relationship would remain in the virtual sphere, seeing each other and talking in real time felt much more personal. 

He wanted to see her though, to hear her moans as she pleasured herself for him. To finally know what her voice sounded like. 

**Vegeta_Prince: Okay.**

Seconds later, she sent him her number. He tapped it and hit the button for Face Time before he had the chance to overthink.

His cock twitched in his grip as he anticipated her filling his screen. He needed this, no matter how fiercely his better judgement warned that it was a mistake. 

But then she answered, and his thoughts ground to a screeching halt. 

The first thing he noticed were her eyes, heavy-lidded and smoldering with need. Her blue hair curled wildly around her face as she looked down at the phone she had propped against a pillow. 

His eyes were drawn to the place where her fingers disappeared beneath the hem of her t-shirt. Shit, she had actually done what he said, kneeling and touching herself for him. 

He groaned as his hips bucked up against his hand, the hunger that had been building for weeks reaching a fever pitch. 

“Hi there, handsome.”

She smiled down at him, rendering him mute as the sweet, lilting sound of her voice washed over him. It was everything and nothing like he had imagined. He ached to hear her say his name. 

She giggled.“Cat got your tongue?”

Oh, Christ. He realized he had been staring mutely at her, hand fisted around his erection like a total creep. 

_Real smooth, dick head._

“Hi,” he managed to squeak out, an octave higher usual. 

Bulma giggled again, the blue of her eyes reflecting the soft lamplight of her room as she looked him over. Her little moan of approval went straight to his groin. 

“You touching yourself for me, badman?”

Vegeta groaned, shifting the angle of his phone so she could see for herself. It hadn’t occurred to him to be bashful until her eyes widened. 

“Holy shit,” she whispered almost to herself, rocking her hips against her palm. “I usually hate getting dick pics, but you really should’ve led with that.” 

Vegeta was sure the surge of pride he was experiencing was the dictionary definition of the word ‘cocky.’

“See something you like?”

She nodded, drawing her plump lower lip between her teeth. “I really want to see you make yourself come.”

He growled. “I want to see you, too.” 

His heart raced as Bulma grasped the hem of her t-shirt. 

A part of him had expected her to draw this out, to torment him, but in a split second the shirt was gone. Wild blue curls tumbled down onto her creamy shoulders, not quite long enough to hide anything. 

She was everything he had imagined lying awake nights in this lonely bed, only more. 

Her fare skin looked as soft as the curves it covered. He could just make out the occasional scar dotting the landscape of her flesh. Perfect imperfections. 

Bulma must have seen the naked awe on his face because she giggled, tossing her curls over one shoulder. 

“See something you like?” she parroted back at him with a smirk. 

Vegeta nodded, scrambling to find his voice. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“Mmm…Thanks. You’re not half bad yourself.”

Bulma looked down at him, spreading her knees a little wider, and, fuck, he could see nearly everything. She was pink and soft and perfect, already glistening with need. 

“What do you want to do to me, big guy?”

“Shit,” Vegeta groaned, bucking helplessly against his hand. 

He scrambled for something dirty and provocative to say, something that would make that glistening pink flesh grow wetter. But with her flushed face looking down at him, eyes wide with expectation, his mind refused to function. 

“I just want to be inside you,” he answered honestly. “So fucking badly.”

Bulma’s hand reclaimed its place between her thighs, and he didn’t miss the way her creamy skin quivered when she found her clit. 

“I know that perfect cock would fill me up so good.” 

“Fuck, yes. Show me how wet you are for me, baby girl.”

She dipped two fingers lower until they disappeared inside her pink folds. When she withdrew them, they were shiny and slick. 

She held them up for him to see, and his stomach contracted with need. He wanted nothing more than to sit up and pull those glistening fingers into his mouth, letting her taste blossom over his tongue. She must taste like heaven. 

Vegeta didn’t deserve heaven, but he could have this. He could give her this. 

“Show me how you touch yourself, Bulma. I want you to come.”

“Shit,” she sighed, her fingers leaving a sticky trail down her smooth belly before finding their mark. 

Vegeta watched, mesmerized, as she began to pleasure herself in earnest, head thrown back and hips rocking against her palm. 

Without moving his gaze from her for a moment, he reached for the lotion he kept on the bedside table. It felt uncomfortably cold compared to the tight heat he craved, but it would have to do.

She looked down again, watching him with lips parted and eyes half closed. He must look wrecked, he realized, panting like he’d just run a marathon with his hand working desperately over his cock. 

He tried to slow down, to make sure he didn’t come before her. It was a lost cause. Her free hand had come up to tweak one pebbled nipple, and his thoughts were consumed with the need to push it away and take over himself. And then she spoke, and all possibility of restraint was lost. 

“The first time I watched one of your fights, I was wet the whole time,” she panted. “The way you move is just…fucking beautiful. And the way you slammed that guy down on the mat — Hnng. I had to lock myself in my friend’s bathroom and touch myself after.”

Vegeta let out a strangled moan. 

Somehow the thought of Bulma getting wet while watching him fight, touching herself and thinking about him like that, in the arena where he felt most like himself, was unbelievably erotic. 

“Did you come all over those naughty fingers?” he rasped. 

Bulma nodded, whimpering as her motions grew increasingly desperate. 

“You gunna come for me now, Bulma?”

“Yes! I’m so close.”

Vegeta cursed under his breath, fighting against the familiar pressure that was building in his groin. 

Just a little longer. 

“Yes, Bulma. Come for me.”

Her pink lips opened wide, a breathtaking rosy flush spreading from her chest to her hairline as her eyes fluttered and slipped closed. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s it. I’m coming, Vegeta!”

The sound of his name flying from her sweet mouth as she came undone just for him broke the last of his control. He came harder than he could remember coming in years, striping his chest and belly. 

Bulma was still watching him with hungry eyes. She smiled and rocked lazily against her hand, floating down from her peak. He had never seen anything so beautiful. 

“Oh my god,” she groaned when she had caught her breath. “I really want to clean you up with my tongue right now.”

Vegeta groaned, his spent cock twitching at the thought. If she kept talking like that, he would be hardening again in no time. 

“That vulgar mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble, woman.” 

“Mmm. I like trouble.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively before flopping down onto her side. 

Of course she liked trouble, Vegeta mused. She liked him, and trouble would be a kind word for what he was. 

“Hey.”

He glanced back over at her. She was looking at him with a curious expression and a soft smile. 

“Where did you go, big guy?”

Vegeta just shrugged, propping himself up with his clean hand. 

“Be right back,” he mumbled before jogging to the bathroom. 

He fished a damp towel out of the hamper and cleaned himself up, fighting to stay calm beneath the barrage of feelings roiling inside him. There were too many battling for dominance to untangle them all, but he was certain shame and self-loathing were winning, as they so often did. 

These were familiar emotions. There was something else, though, beneath the anxiety and the guilt and the confusion. Something that made him feel lonelier than he ever had before. And Vegeta had grown up a military brat; he knew what loneliness was. 

The feelings that Bulma had created in him, once the fog of lust had cleared, were foreign and baffling. He didn’t have the first clue how to reconcile what he was beginning to suspect he wanted with what he knew he deserved. Or didn’t. And it scared the hell out of him. 

When he returned to the bedroom, he half expected to find his phone screen blank again. But she was there, still gloriously naked, curled up among her numerous pillows. 

“There you are. Everything okay?”

Her voice was gentle and full of understanding. It made something come apart inside him. His eyes itched, and he rubbed at them with the backs of his fingers. 

He should hang up. Tell her he had an early morning and end this. He really should, but…

“So, why did you want to mangle your assistant?” he asked, ignoring her question. 

He just wanted to hear her voice for a little longer. 

Just a little longer. Then he would let her go. 

“I believe I said I wanted to throttle him, but mangle works too.”

She giggled, and Vegeta lost himself in her changing expressions and the lilt of her voice as she prattled on, letting her imaginary presence lull him into some semblance of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you tomorrow! 
> 
> Until then, find me on tumblr (1VulgarWoman) and twitter (@1Vulgar).


	4. Don’t @ Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pain train’s pulling into the station in three...two....

_More amazing artwork by[Tepepany.](twitter.com%5Csgreeneart) _

Vegeta hadn’t expected the desert to be cold. He burrowed deeper into the hole that served as a makeshift bed, bracing himself against the biting wind. A warm shoulder brushed against his, and he resisted the urge to pull away. 

Kakarot sat shivering beside him, the dark circles beneath his eyes visible in the moonlight. The ready smile of the fresh-faced recruit Vegeta had known during basic training had been replaced by a deeply-etched frown. Vegeta wondered if the past six months had aged him by years too. 

The wind howled on as they watched the flickering fires of the insurgents camped out in the hills ahead. Six shivering, sleep-deprived Green Berets were all that stood between them and the peaceful tribe slumbering at their backs. Soon, the first rays of sunlight would appear over the tops of the hills, but until then they would sit, pretend to try to sleep, and endure the calm before the storm. 

“You awake, Prince?”

Vegeta scoffed. 

“Of course I am,” he whispered back, crossing his arms to stop himself from shivering. 

Vegeta half expected the other soldier to whine about being hungry. He himself couldn’t recall the last time they’d eaten more than a few stolen bites at a time. His own stomach was gnawing at his insides, making the already remote possibility of rest even more impossible. 

“Do up plan to stay in the Forces, once you can get out, I mean?”

Vegeta shrugged. Of course he was staying in. Following in his father’s footsteps up the chain of command had been his only goal since he was a child. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kakarot bow his head, clenching his fists in his lap.

“I have to get out, Vegeta,” the younger man said, his voice strained. “This place, this job…I don’t like what it’s doing to me.”

“What do you mean, Son?”

“I hate them.” He nodded toward the campfires on the hillside. “I hate them, and I can’t wait for the sun to come up so I can destroy every last one of them.”

Vegeta sighed. “We’re doing our duty.”

“We’re becoming monsters,” Kakarot shot back, his body shaking with barely-contained rage. “After what we did at the last village…”

“They turned on us,” Vegeta interrupted. “We were defending ourselves.”

“It was murder, Vegeta. They never stood a chance.”

Both men fell silent for several breaths, the phantom echo of shots fired and the screams of dying men and women filling the silence. Kakarot was the one to break it. 

“What if we were wrong? How do we know they were going to turn on us? Frieza…”

“Is our commanding officer,” Vegeta interrupted, glancing around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “We were following orders.”

“It was wrong. I think, deep down, be both know that.”

Kakarot’s voice rang with conviction, and Vegeta turned his gaze back to the horizon, weariness seeping into his pores as he pondered his fellow soldier’s words. 

If Kakarot wasn’t careful, he was going to get himself killed. 

~0~

Vegeta woke with a start, disoriented. 

He had slept at an odd angle on his bed, stark naked. The top sheet and duvet were lying in a heap on the floor. 

It came back to him in bits and pieces, then in an avalanche. 

He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair.

Last night had been beyond amazing, but also confusing. The most incredible, gorgeous, brilliant woman he had ever known wanted him. _Him._ He was almost certain that, if he asked, she would be his in the real world, too. By all accounts, he should be over the moon, but he just felt sick. 

He reached for his phone, which had fallen face-down the bed, and his heart seized. 

There she was, asleep in a tangle of ivory sheets. Her lips were parted, and her chest rose and fell with each steady breath. A lock of hair had fallen across one smooth cheek, and his fingers twitched with the desire to brush it away. 

They lived in the same city. He could wait for her to wake up and offer to make her breakfast. Maybe see if she wanted to spend the weekend with him. It didn’t have to be sexual; he just wanted to spend time in her presence. He could…

Bulma stirred, and he rushed to disconnect the call before she woke. 

_Coward_ , he silently accused himself, clenching his fist until his blunt nails bit into his palm. 

With a growl of frustration, he turned and flung his phone across the room. It landed in a thousand pieces scattered across the hardwood floor. 

~0~

Frustration and pent-up rage led Vegeta back to Kame House later that afternoon. 

Goku didn’t ask questions when he said he wanted to spar. It was one of the few things he could admit he liked about his former comrade. 

Now if he could just get the taller man to stop pulling his punches. 

“Stop going easy on me and fucking HIT ME!”

Vegeta grunted as a lightening-fast jab connected squarely with his jaw. He dropped onto the cool grass sputtering and gasping for breath. 

“Oh, shit! Are you okay?”

He glared up at Goku’s concerned face and spit out a mouthful of blood. 

“No, I am not okay! You almost knocked my teeth out, you moron.”

Goku rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. 

“Well, jeez, Vegeta. You said you wanted me to hit you.”

Vegeta closed his mouth on the biting insults he had been preparing to hurl, realizing that Goku was right. He had asked the much bigger man to hit him for a reason, and it had worked. He hadn’t thought about Bulma at all in the minute or so since it happened. 

Christ, he needed to get back in the Octagon, badly. 

He knocked away Goku’s offered hand and staggered to his feet, brushing grass and dirt from the back of his sweats. 

“You seem a little off today, man. What’s up?” 

Vegeta turned his back on Goku before the flush creeping into his cheeks became visible. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Behind him, Goku grinned. 

“Girl trouble?”

Vegeta’s face flamed. 

“Wha…There’s no…Don’t be absurd.”

A massive hand landed on his shoulder, and he batted it away like a spider. 

“Don’t feel bad, dude. I’ve been having a little girl trouble of my own lately.”

Vegeta’s scowl softened as he recalled the drawing he’d seen in Goku’s room. 

“Chichi?” he asked. 

Goku nodded. 

“Yeah. She still won’t call me Goku, and every time I try to talk about who I am now so she can get to know me, she just…leaves.”

Goku lowered his bulk onto one of the wooden benches scattered around the garden, dejected. 

“I like her a lot, and I want to be with her. But not as Kakarot, as Goku. And she won’t even give me a chance.”

Vegeta shuffled from foot to foot, uncomfortable. He was clearly out of his depth here, but he felt like he should try to say something. 

“You know, you’re really not that different than you were before. Minus a few IQ points, maybe…”

“It’s not about that,” Goku interrupted. “I just want her to like me for me, not because of who I used to be. Ya’ know?”

Vegeta nodded. He understood better than Goku probably realized.

~0~ 

It was almost dark when Vegeta made himself go buy a new phone. 

He turned it on, and notifications started to fill the screen. Nappa had called and texted several times, clearly annoyed at being ignored, but it was a message from Bulma that made his heart race. 

_‘Good morning, handsome. I had an amazing time last night. Wanna meet up for coffee or dinner soon? Call me when you get a chance!’_

His hand hovered over the call button for several seconds before he tapped Nappa’s number instead. 

_“Took you long enough, fuckwad.”_

Vegeta rolled his eyes. 

“Hello to you too, Nappa.”

_“Get ready to tell me what a genius I am.”_

“Don’t hold your breath.”

_“Despite your best efforts, my idea worked. Not only is the UFC no longer considering dropping your contract, but they just offered you a truckload of dough to defend your title. You’re welcome.”_

Anticipation surged inside Vegeta’s chest. He didn’t care about the money, but the promise of a good fight was manna in the desert. His insides churned with eagerness to leave everything behind and begin training. 

There was one more thing he had to take care of while he had his manager on the phone, though. One small step he could take to start making things right. 

“Listen, Nappa, there’s someone I think you should meet.”

~0~

Vegeta knocked back the last of his drink as he opened the text message app on his phone. 

This was it. Time to stop being a coward and do what his better judgement had told him to do in the first place. 

It was time to let Bulma go. 

He read over her message to him again, faltering as it reminded him of the way she’d looked at him through the phone. Like he was someone worth knowing. Someone worth saving. 

After several false starts, he settled on a response he was reasonably happy with. Concise. Rational. Not unnecessarily harsh, but leaving no room for her to mistake his meaning. 

_“It’s been nice, but I have a big fight coming up. I’m going away to train tomorrow, and I need to focus. Nothing personal.”_

His finger hovered over the delete key as his mind kept him painfully aware that there were other options. Yes, he was leaving in the morning, but they still had the rest of the night and maybe even an early breakfast to spend together. He could ask to take her to dinner when he got back. Hell, he could invite her to come away with him if she wanted to. 

But thoughts of what would follow afterwards stopped him. Bulma was the kind of woman who deserved to be more than just a passionate fling. She deserved a relationship, a partner, and Vegeta feared he didn’t have the skills or the disposition to give that to her. 

Besides, she might seem to understand him better than anyone ever had, but she didn’t truly know him. Bulma didn’t know about his past, about the things he had done. She had heard the rumors, of course, but she didn’t know the half of it. He had never been good like Kakarot, even before he’d destroyed him pursuing his own rash agenda. And now, it was far too late to change that. 

The past had proven time and again that anyone who got close to Vegeta got hurt. If Bulma got too close to him — if he destroyed her the way he had destroyed Kakarot — it would kill him. 

He could never allow that to happen. 

So he hit send. 

~0~

Vegeta told himself he wouldn’t look at Bulma’s pictures or read her last message to him again, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to delete them. 

He’d unfollowed her on Instagram so he wouldn’t have to face daily reminders of his inadequacy, but the knowledge that the pictures of her in his t-shirt were only a couple taps away lingered in the back of his mind while he trained his body to the brink of collapse. 

It had been a month. One month since he’d heard her voice or seen her image light up his screen. 

He’d been tempted, of course, during lonely nights in quiet hotel rooms. To look at her pictures. To read her last messages. To call her. Not that she’d ever want to hear from him again, but something about knowing he still had that last link to her was comforting. He knew it was pathetic but still couldn’t bring himself to sever that final tie. 

On the night before the big fight, he settled into his hotel bed early, struggling to keep his thoughts on defending his title. 

He wondered if Bulma would watch the fight. Would she still cheer for him, or would she back his opponent? After the way they had left things, it was a question that bothered him tremendously, though he didn’t know why her opinion mattered to him at all. When had her approval become all that mattered?

Vegeta had slowed down his social media posting to focus on training, but he had the flyer for tomorrow’s match already queued up to post. It should have been fast and simple, but as soon as he opened the app, his breath hitched. 

There she was. Bulma. Beautiful as ever in a floor-length red dress with a slit that showed off one long, slender leg. Her hair hung in soft waves around her face, and she was wearing red lipstick to match her dress. 

Vegeta’s heart gave a little stutter inside his chest as his ravenous eyes drank in every detail, including the grinning idiot with his arm wrapped around her waist. 

_Yamcha_bandits69: Had an awesome time at the #CapsuleCorpGala with my best girl @thebulmabriefs. You looked smokin,’ babe._

Vegeta was seeing red, and not just Bulma’s dress. 

It certainly hadn’t taken her long to move on to someone else, had it? He recalled the three eggplant emojis Yamcha had left in the comments of Bulma’s photo, the one where she had worn nothing but his t-shirt. Had the two of them already started something, even back then? Just the thought of Bulma flirting with that imbecile the way she had with him made Vegeta queasy. 

Well, fine. Maybe he was better off without her, anyway. 

Getting rid of her pictures was easier than he’d expected. It hurt to look at her now. He deleted the pictures then emptied his deleted photos folder so there would be no way to take it back. She would be gone for good. 

He erased her phone number from his contacts next. That left only the texts. 

He really should have just deleted them without looking. It would have been easier, but Vegeta had always been a glutton for punishment. 

Beneath his curt goodbye message, her final words to him shouted from the screen. 

_‘Nothing personal?! NOTHING FUCKING PERSONAL?!!! Well, I hope whoever you’re ‘fighting’ kicks your two-timing fuckboy ass into next year. Nothing personal.’_

Vegeta winced as her words hit him all over again like a punch to the gut. Her accusations seemed ironic now that he knew about the baseball player, but somehow the thought didn’t make him feel any better. Still, better that she believe that than the truth: that he was a weak, spineless coward terrified of a woman. 

As a rule, he didn’t drink the night before a fight, yet he found himself trudging over to the minibar and opening an overpriced tiny bottle of whisky. He didn’t even bother to get ice. 

It took two more bottles for him to finally press delete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, Vegeta. Way to fuck it all up. 🙈
> 
> Next chapter will be posted tomorrow morning. In the mean time, find me on tumblr (1VulgarWoman) and twitter (@1Vulgar).


	5. YOLO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks goes out to King_Geets for helping me out with her knowledge of MMA rules. She gave me some ideas that made this chapter so much better. 
> 
> Also, I feel like a total ass for not mentioning my amazing beta sooner. 🙈 Thank you so much, Dianae, for all of your help!

The steady beep, beep, beep of the monitors was calming almost, familiar. 

Vegeta knew his side hurt. His face too. He was aware of the pain but also numb to it. They must have pumped him full of sedatives. 

He tried to draw in a deep breath, but something heavy was crushing his chest. Why hadn’t they removed the weight? Could they not see that he was suffocating?

Panic prodded around the edges of his medicated haze, searching for a foothold. The mechanical beeps came closer together. 

_“Vegeta.”_

That voice. How long had it been since he heard it? Years? Days? 

Bulma. 

She was here. He needed her, and she had come for him. She was here. 

“Vegeta. Wake up.”

His eyelids felt like lead weights. He struggled mightily, and they started to flutter open. 

His breath stopped. 

There she was, wild-haired and smiling, her bare torso draped over his chest. 

Vegeta didn’t mind being crushed anymore. He was happy to be suffocated by her. 

“B-Bulma…”

“Shhhh…”

Cool, soothing fingertips trailed over the side of his face, wiping away the moisture they found there. 

“Bulma…”

“Shh…Don’t try to talk.”

“You’re here,” he gasped out anyway, blinking back the tears that kept obscuring his view of her face. “You came. For me.”

Bulma nodded, smiling down at him. 

“Yes, I’m here. I came for you.”

He felt his lips moving, repeating her name over and over like a mantra. Like a prayer. 

Sweet, whispered words of comfort and the cool touch of her hand on his brow lulled him back into the peaceful dark. 

~0~

_Two days earlier…_

Vegeta had never considered how the floor of the Octagon smelled. 

It seemed strange to him, now, that he hadn’t. The Octagon was so familiar, so inviting to him. Almost like home. 

His nose wrinkled as he breathed in the odor of sweat and feet and chemicals mixed with something else that didn’t belong there. He studied the spray of bright red in front of him like a detached researcher. It smelled metallic, like wet pennies. 

The red dots began to swim and blur in front of him, eventually disappearing as his eyes slipped closed. Well, one eye slipped closed, he realized. The other was already swollen shut. 

_Get up._

A sharp pain sliced through his left side when he struggled to slide his hands underneath him, but he pushed through it. 

The Octagon tilted at an odd angle, as he staggered to his feet, blindly turning to face his opponent. 

The Android. That’s what they called that guy. Said he was a machine. Didn’t get tired. Didn’t feel pain. 

Badman versus the Android. It had been plastered all over the promotional content. The ultimate showdown: man versus machine.

Vegeta had scoffed at the hype then. He scoffed again, this time at his own hubris, as the Android danced around his blindside, taunting him. 

_Just end it, already._

Mustering his remaining strength, he swung out with one final kick, which connected with only thin air. The burning pain in his side sucked the breath right out of his lungs. Stars danced around the edges of his darkening vision. 

That was it. That was all he had. 

Even if he had seen the Android’s fist coming, he couldn’t have dodged. 

~0~

The steady cadence of the monitors woke Vegeta again, but this time, he felt more like himself. Blinking the sleep away from his eyes, he took stock of his situation. 

He had known he was in the hospital without needing to see. The sounds and smells were familiar as the back of his hand. They’d put him in a private room with windows overlooking the park. The sun stung his sleep-sensitive eyes. 

There was a thick, white bandage wrapped around his torso, which ached with every breath. Broken ribs, he realized. Everything else seemed to be, more or less, in tact. 

Quiet voices drew his attention to the sofa against the opposite wall. Nappa sat there with Goku, deep in conversation. They hadn’t noticed Vegeta was awake. 

On the table beside them, propped against a giant floral arrangement, was his championship belt. The one he had lost. 

It took him several tries to find his voice. When he did, it was thick and gravely from disuse. 

“What is that doing here?”

Both men turned to regard him with surprised expressions. Goku smiled. 

“You’re awake!”

“It’s about damn time,” Nappa grumbled. 

Vegeta repeated himself, slower this time. 

“What. Is. That. Doing. Here?”

Nappa stood, lumbering over to stand beside his bed. 

“Good news,” he explained, gesturing animatedly with his giant paws. “That Android guy failed his drug test. Congratulations, champ.”

Vegeta’s ribs throbbed as his breath came faster.

His eyes darted between the two visitors. Nappa looked thrilled, but he saw only sympathy in Goku’s eyes. He understood. 

“There’s nothing to congratulate me for,” he grumbled. “I got my ass handed to me out there. I’m no ‘champ.’”

“According to UFC rules, you are,” Nappa argued back, undeterred. “And there’s a hefty victory bonus coming your way.”

“Well, tell them I don’t want it. There was no victory.” 

“Vegeta, the guy was juicin.’ It wasn’t a fair fight.”

“It doesn’t matter. I still should have been able to beat him.”

Nappa opened his mouth to argue, but Goku stepped in. 

“Maybe we should let Vegeta get some rest,” he suggested, placing a hand on the manager’s shoulder. 

To Vegeta’s surprise, Nappa nodded, moving towards the door. 

“By the way,” he said over his shoulder, “thanks for the intro. Son here has thrashed every opponent I’ve set up for him so far. He’s going to make me rich.”

Goku smiled bashfully as Nappa closed the door, leaving the two fighters alone. 

“So,” Goku began, “I’m really sorry about your fight, man. That sucks.”

Vegeta nodded, bristling beneath Goku’s compassionate gaze. 

“I guess I should get going too. I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake.”

“Son,” Vegeta stopped him when he was half-way out the door. “How long was I unconscious?”

“Two days.”

Vegeta nodded, swallowing thickly.

“By the way, who’s Bulma?”

Vegeta’s eyebrows rose. 

“What? How do you…”

“You kept saying ‘Bulma’ in your sleep. I was just wonderin’…”

“No one. I must have been delirious.”

Goku looked unconvinced but didn’t push further. 

Two days later, the doctor signed Vegeta’s discharge papers, and Goku showed up to help him get home. 

Vegeta protested needing the help, but Goku had insisted. As if he were the one with an insurmountable debt to pay.

Goku didn’t have his driver’s license, so Nappa sent a car for them. Soon, they were walking up the stairs to Vegeta’s brownstone. 

When Goku left, Vegeta settled himself on the sofa, pain meds and a glass of water close by. He dug his phone out of his pocket and plugged it into the charger, waiting several minutes for it to turn on so he could order food. 

When the screen finally lit up, there was a text message from an unknown number. When he read it, his eyes grew wide. He knew who that number belonged to. 

_‘Oh my god, Vegeta, I feel so awful for what I said to you before! I was pissed off and sad and disappointed, but I never actually wanted you to get hurt. Please tell me you’re going to be okay.’_

So Bulma had watched the fight. Just when he thought his humiliation couldn’t get any more complete.

There was another feeling welling inside him, though. Something that constricted his chest even more than the bandage around his ribs. 

For several minutes, he stared at the screen, debating his answer, if he decided to send one at all. 

He was convinced her concern stemmed from guilt, nothing more. The vindictive part of him wanted to let her stew in it, but he brushed it aside. Her ire had been well deserved, and he knew it.

 _‘I’m fine,_ ’ he typed simply, hitting send before he could psyche himself out. 

As soon as it was done, he wondered if she would respond. Did he even want her to?

Yes, he realized. He wanted that. He wanted it more than anything. 

The minutes ticked away, and Vegeta’s eyes refused to leave the darkened screen. Still nothing. 

Unable to stop himself, though he was certain to regret it in a clearer moment, he typed a second message. 

_‘I miss you.’_

He stared at the words for a long while before hitting send. 

Vegeta was almost asleep when the phone buzzed with her reply. 

He snatched it up, and his heart sank as he read her words. 

_‘I’m glad you’re okay,’_ was all she had written. 

Vegeta let the phone slip out of his hand, all desire to order food gone. It clattered onto the hardwood floor. 

He reached for the bottle of pain pills and took two, eager for the oblivion of sleep. 

The weight of his failures crushed down on him from every side. He had lost the woman of his dreams because he was a coward. A hollow victory that was a greater blow to his pride than an honest defeat had been foisted on him, and there was nothing he could do to refuse. Even Goku, who offered him nothing but unquestioning friendship, as if he wasn’t the one responsible for destroying his life, weighed heavily on his mind. 

Vegeta thought he’d been to rock bottom before. He had been wrong.

~0~

Nappa needed to learn how to mind his own business. 

That was the first thought that came to mind when a text from Nappa reading _‘mission accomplished’_ with an attached news clip appeared on his screen. 

If Vegeta hadn’t been so goddamn bored from sitting in his quiet house alone for the past three days, he might have just ignored the message. Instead, he pressed play. 

As soon as the video filled the screen, he cringed. He must have been too doped up on pain meds to notice someone filming when he left the hospital with Goku. It was an unsettling feeling. 

A slide-show of pictures played on the screen while the anchor narrated. 

“Our sources have confirmed that the man seen leaving the hospital with Prince is indeed Kakarot ‘Goku’ Son, the former Green Beret and rising MMA star who Prince was suspected of assaulting while they were both serving in Afghanistan. We can now confirm that such reports have been greatly overstated, and Mr. Son himself has defended Prince in the press, saying he considers him a friend. Turns out, MMA’s favorite ‘badman’ may not be so bad, after all.”

Vegeta slammed his phone down on the coffee table in disgust, stopping the video. If there was more, he didn’t want to see. He wished he hadn’t seen any of it. 

He pushed himself up off the sofa and trudged across the room to the fireplace. There, on the mantel, sat one of the only non-essential items to survive his minimalist taste. The frame was the tarnished brass color of a bygone era. The pictures inside were faded and smudged, but they were the only photographs of his father he still had. 

Growing up, Vegeta had wanted nothing more than to be just like his father. But he hadn’t really known the man, had he? 

He’d followed him from military base to military base with his mother, but they had rarely been in the same room. His father had become a figure he admired from a distance, the way a child idolizes a superhero or a movie star. Someone to emulate more than someone to know. 

His eyes moved to a posed shot of a young Vegeta Senior standing at attention with his unit, proud and stern-faced. Beside him, wearing a smirk that still chilled Vegeta to the bone, stood Frieza. 

Vegeta turned away from the mantle, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

There was a reason his eyes skimmed over those old photos whenever he was in this room. Frieza. The monster who had stolen his father, his honor, and his military career. His pride had been the only thing Frieza couldn’t take, and Vegeta had guarded it with jealous rage for all these years. What was left of it now?

There was only one way he could think of to take some of it back. 

He sat down on the sofa, used an empty glass to prop his phone up on the coffee table, and opened Instagram. It took some trial and error to figure out how, but he managed to open the camera and start a livestream. 

His own image appeared on screen, startling him. He looked beaten. There was no other way to describe it. 

Even beyond the black eye and splotches of purple and red across his torso, Vegeta looked wrecked. The weariness he felt down to his soul was etched in the deep lines and sharp angles of his face. 

The number in the corner of the screen began to tick upwards. He had an audience. 

Vegeta scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbing at the week’s worth of stubble there. Clearing his throat, he began. 

“You may have heard what they’re saying about me now. And about Kaka — about Goku. I’m sure you don’t give two shits, but...But everything you’ve heard is wrong.”

He looked down at his bruised knuckles, picking at the healing skin as he fought to keep his anger in check. 

“Goku and I aren’t friends. Or rather, I’m no friend to him.”

The viewer count continued to rise as Vegeta gathered what was left of his pride. It was time for the truth. 

“I tolerate Son out of guilt, but that’s it. He serves as a painful reminder of my failures. I wish I could forget him. I’ve tried.”

Vegeta sighed heavily, raking his fingers through his hair. 

“The truth is…”

_Say it. For once in your life, don’t be a worthless coward. Say it._

“The truth is, Goku — Kakarot — saved my life. I owe my entire pathetic existence, everything I have, to him. He even avenged my father’s murder where I had failed.”

Something hot and wet caressed his cheek. He brushed it away with the backs of his fingers. 

“You probably heard the so-called rumor that I confessed to the murder of my commanding officer and the attempted murder of Son. I did. That’s the story I wanted everyone to believe, even if it meant living out my days in prison. Even if it meant execution.”

He drew in a deep, unsteady breath before continuing. 

“It’s a long story, but the gist is Son and I served under an officer called Frieza, who I learned may have had something to do with my father’s death. Because he was such a sick, sadistic bastard, it was easy to believe. They had always been rivals. 

“One evening, I lured Frieza out into the desert, but he was one step ahead of me.”

He rubbed at the phantom ache that pulsed over his right pectoral, worrying the puckered scar with his fingertips. 

“This scar is from his bullet. He was saying something about poetic justice…about how I looked like my father did before he died. 

“Then, before the bastard could put a bullet between my eyes, Son arrived.”

He drew in a shuddering breath, swallowing thickly as more and more hot tears wet his cheeks. If he’d had any pride left at all, he might have cared. 

“He stepped between me and Frieza’s gun. He tried to talk Frieza down, but…Well, they both fired at once. When the smoke cleared, Frieza was dead. My father had been avenged, but not by me. And Goku, he…”

Vegeta knew he was openly sobbing now. It felt good. Christ, it felt so fucking good. The last vestiges of his pride were being washed away by tears, and for once, he wasn’t sorry to see it go. 

“I told the investigators I was the one who shot them both. Later, ballistics proved that wasn’t the case. The charges were dropped, but they never knew what really happened out there. “I confessed to two murders I didn’t commit because I would rather have died in prison than live with the knowledge that my rival had avenged my father where I had failed. That he had been willing to sacrifice everything for me when I couldn’t say the same. 

“I hated Son then. For not letting me die. For succeeding against Frieza. For being a far better man than I could ever hope to be.”

His head hung down between his arms, and he shook it ruefully.

“I don’t hate Goku now, or even Kakarot. I hate myself.”

Vegeta scrubbed his hand over his eyes. Now that it was all out, all he could think about was how good it would feel to talk to Bulma. He wanted to tell her everything, but he had lost that privilege for good. 

“Sheer cowardice kept me from doing the right thing by Son years ago. And more recently, it caused me to lose…the only woman I’ve ever thought I could really love.”

He drew in a deep breath, gathering the last of his resolve. 

“She’s probably not watching, but…if she is, I hope she understands why now. I never deserved her. And I’m so...sorry I failed her. And —“

He worried his lower lip between his teeth until he tasted blood. 

“And I’ll always regret it.”

That was it. He had said it all. 

Vegeta nodded his head, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs before disconnecting the livestream. 

He sank back against the cushions, drained but feeling strangely euphoric. It was all out now. No more secrets. No more fear. 

His pride might be gone, but he had gained something far more valuable. For the first time in years, he felt peace. 

Vegeta started when his phone buzzed against the table’s wooden surface. Nappa, he suspected. His manager must be shitting a brick. 

The thought made him chuckle as he reached for the phone. 

Nappa’s name wasn’t what appeared at the top of the screen, though. His heart skipped several beats as he tried to place the number. Could it be…?

“Bulma?” he gasped as he pressed the phone to his ear. 

His heart hammered against his sore ribs as he waited, praying for the sound of her voice. He felt like his insides might burst right out of his skin. 

_“Did you mean it?”_

Vegeta breathed a sigh of relief. It was her. His Bulma. 

_“Was that really why…? A-and you regret it?”_

She was crying, he realized. He felt his throat grow tight again. 

“Yes. I meant every word.”

Her wet, shuddering sob sliced through him, and the need to hold her became more than he could bear. 

“Can I see you? Just...tell me where you are, and I’ll come.”

He heard her draw in a deep breath on the other end of the line, then release it with a small, wet laugh. 

“No. I can’t let you do that. You’re still recovering.”

Vegeta’s heart sank. He had set aside his pride at last, but it was still too little to late. At least he had gotten to hear her voice one last time. 

_“Text me your address. I’ll come to you.”_

He squeezed his eyes closed as tears of happiness and relief rolled down his cheeks. 

“Okay,” he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *author ugly crying* This chapter was SO emotional for me to write. It also reminded me of the reasons Vegeta inspires me so much. When most people would give up, he always manages to find another level of strength and courage and I just love him so much. 😭💕
> 
> Anyways, tomorrow we come to the final chapter. Until then, find me on timblr (1VulgarWoman) and twitter (@1Vulgar).


	6. IRL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys, this is it. The final chapter. 😭 
> 
> I just want to give a huge shout-out to Dianae for the beta and to Tepepany and King_Geets for all their support and the gorgeous artwork. You guys made this experience so much fun, and I couldn’t have asked for more. 💕💕💕

He couldn’t believe she was actually here. 

Vegeta let his hungry eyes soak in every detail of the beauty in front of him, still disbelieving his own senses. 

Bulma had worn a short red dress with white sneakers, and her hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but it in no way diminished her shine. She was even more beautiful than he had expected. Impossibly so. 

Vegeta realized he had been standing in his open doorway for too long, leaving Bulma smiling up at him from the stoop while he gawked like an idiot. 

Her wide eyes moved over him, and he cringed internally as her smile faded. 

Vegeta knew he looked like hell. He had showered and shaved before she arrived and put on a clean pair of sweat pants, but there wasn’t much he could do about the shiner or the black and blue torso. He had been attempting to wind a fresh bandage around his ribs when he heard her knock. Maybe he should have thrown on a shirt before opening the door. 

“That looks painful.” Bulma nodded towards the blossom of angry red and blue on his side. 

Vegeta shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, I guess you have” she sighed sadly, blue eyes tracing the jagged scar higher on his chest. “Do you have bandages?” 

Vegeta nodded and stood aside to let her enter, mesmerized by the slightest nuances of the way she moved. A sweet, floral scent washed over him as she stepped inside, overwhelming his senses. 

She was taller than him, he realized. No by much. Maybe an inch or so. He hoped she didn’t mind. 

Bulma glanced around his sparse living space before turning back to him with a smile. “Medical supplies would be…?”

“Bathroom,” he answered, nodding in the direction of the hallway.

Bulma led the way, clicking on the light. She hummed her approval when she found everything already laid out on the counter. 

“Come here,” she instructed, and Vegeta obeyed without hesitation. 

The first touch of her hands on his skin made his breath hitch. 

“Oh! Did I hurt you?”

Vegeta shook his head. “No.”

He reached for the hand that hovered in the air between them and coaxed it back to his chest. She was so close like this. He could see the way her pupils dilated the moment his hand brushed hers. Her lipgloss smelled like strawberries. 

He leaned against the countertop as she wound the bandage around his middle, trapped between the cool marble and the beckoning warmth of her curves. Her fingertips feathered over his skin with every pass. All the while, he kept his eyes on her face, memorizing the way she looked standing in front of him in case this was the last time. 

Her eyes flicked upwards and locked with his for a moment, and he could tell by the hitch in her breath and the way she sucked her soft-looking lower lip into her mouth that she was flustered. He smiled. Maybe he still had a shot in hell of winning her away from that idiot baseball player. He had to try.

“There.” Bulma secured the ends of the bandage with a nod. “All done.”

She took a step back, and his hands followed her like magnets. To his relief, she twined her fingers with his, letting him pull her closer. 

She gasped as his arms constricted around her waist, and for a moment he was worried he had grabbed her too roughly. But then her arms were around his shoulders, clinging to him as fiercely as he clung to her.

He buried his face in the curve of her neck and sighed, breathing her in. She fit so perfect in his arms, like she was made to be there. He didn’t even want to think about how much it would hurt to let her go now. 

“Are you okay?” Her fingers threaded into his damp hair, lightly massaging his scalp. 

His answering whimper was muffled against her skin. “I don’t know.”

Bulma held him tighter for a moment, her hands in his hair and on his bare skin soothing him.

“Hey.” She pulled back just enough to coax him to meet her eyes. “Why don’t we go sit down?”

Vegeta nodded, keeping a firm grasp on her hand as she pulled him towards the couch. He sank into the cool leather, and she curled up against his side. Their hands remained intertwined between them.

“How are you feeling?” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

Vegeta shrugged. The truth was, he was feeling too much to put into words. He wanted to show her, but he didn’t know if that was allowed. 

“The baseball player,” he blurted before he had a chance to chicken out. “Is it…serious?” 

Bulma’s brow wrinkled. 

“You mean Yamcha?”

He nodded. 

“What about…? Oh.” Her eyes grew wide. “The Gala picture.”

Vegeta nodded again, his emotions swinging between jealous and confused as Bulma started to giggle. 

“Aww, were you jealous?” 

Vegeta felt his ears grow hot. Bulma scooted closer though, pressing her side against his, and he found that he couldn’t stay irritated for long.

“You definitely don’t need to be jealous of Yamcha. We’re just friends.”

Vegeta searched her face intently, wanting to believe her but afraid to let himself hope. 

“Oh, we dated on and off in college,” she continued. “But then he cheated on me, and I wasn’t even that mad because things were pretty much over romantically between us anyway. But we’ve known each other forever, so we stayed friends.”

She paused, watching his face with a smirk as he processed her words. 

“By the way, it’s all your fault I had to take Yamcha in the first place.” She playfully smacked his knee, then let her hand linger. “If you hadn’t ghosted on me, I was going to ask you to be my date.”

Vegeta could feel his lips quirking upwards as relief unfurled inside his chest. He would always regret that he hurt Bulma. He could never get back the time they had lost, but she was here, with him, now. Maybe there was a way to convince her to stay.

Before he could form a coherent response, Bulma was speaking again. 

“So what you said earlier, on Insta live…about losing the only woman you’ve ever thought you could love—“

Vegeta shifted so his body was angled towards hers, ignoring the burning in his cheeks as he realized he had, in fact, declared his deepest feelings for the world to see. Bulma’s eyes were glistening with gathering tears as he leaned closer until his forehead was pressed against hers. 

“I told you before,” he whispered, cupping her soft cheek in his free hand, “that I meant every word.”

Her breath hitched, and a lone tear escaped. Vegeta brushed it away with his thumb.

“I was already starting to fall for you, before. But after today…”  
She pulled back enough to look him in the eye. Her warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, holding his hand in place against her cheek. 

“After seeing how brave you were…” She scooted closer, so close she was practically in his lap.“I’m definitely a goner.”

Vegeta couldn’t help the satisfied growl that rumbled inside his chest. Bulma was his. She had just confirmed it with her sweet words. And he was never going not let her go. 

He released her hand to find the curve of her waist. His eyes danced between her wide blue gaze and the little ‘o’ of her mouth, and his tongue darted out to wet his own lips in anticipation. 

He was a hair’s breadth away from tasting her when someone pounded on the door. 

Their frustrated sighs mingled in the charged air between them. 

“You need to get that?” 

Vegeta grunted. “They’ll go away.”

The pounding only grew louder. 

“Vegeta? Hey, Vegeta! You okay in there?”

Rage bubbled up inside him as the familiar voice reached them from the other side of the door. 

“I’ll kill him,” he grumbled, standing and stomping towards the entryway. 

Bulma’s tinkling laugh followed behind him. 

Vegeta yanked the door open just as Goku raised his fist to knock again.

“WHAT?”

“Oh, good. You’re all right.”

“Of course, I am,” Vegeta growled. “What do you want?” 

Goku rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, we saw what happened earlier, and Nappa said I should drop by and check on ya’, just in case. He’s pretty pissed, by the way. You should really call him back.”

“Fuck Nappa,” Vegeta grumbled. “And fuck you. I’m busy.”

Before he could slam the door in Goku’s face, Bulma ducked under his arm. 

“You’re Goku, aren’t you?” she asked, eyes wide. 

“Yeah,” the taller man answered. “And you must be Bulma.”

Vegeta’s cheeks flamed. 

“How did you…? Never mind.” Bulma launched herself into Goku’s arms, making him take a step back. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she chanted. “Thank you for saving my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend? They hadn’t discussed labels, but he certainly didn’t hate the way it sounded. He could live with that. 

Goku chuckled, giving Bulma a quick squeeze before releasing her. “I don’t really remember that, but, you’re welcome, I guess.”

“Goku! We’re going to be late for our reservation!” a female voice called from around the corner. 

“Oh, I gotta go. Chichi’s taking me out on a date,” Goku announced proudly.

“Wait,” Vegeta stopped him, wide-eyed. “She called you ‘Goku.’”

“Yeah, she does that now.” Goku’s grin spread from ear to ear. “She said she wants to have sex after our date. I can’t actually remember doing it before, so I hope I know how.”

Vegeta cringed. That was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about right now. 

Goku waved his goodbyes to both of them before jogging around to where Chichi was waiting. 

Bulma giggled as they watched them drive off down the road. 

“He seems nice,” she observed.

Vegeta just grunted, pulling her back inside the door before shutting it behind her. Goku had interrupted enough for one day. 

“So,” he purred, caging her against the door with his body. “Where were we?”

Bulma giggled, reaching up to twine her arms around his neck. “Why don’t you remind me, badman?”

He did. 

~ 0 ~

Vegeta grunted as his back connected with the wall, jostling his sore ribs. 

“Sorry,” Bulma breathed against his mouth, putting entirely too much distance between them for his taste. 

“It’s fine.” 

Her moan vibrated against his chest as he returned to pillaging her mouth with abandon. Hands bracketing her hips, he backed her up towards where he hoped his bedroom door was, but he didn’t want to break away from her kiss long enough to make sure. 

He swallowed her laugh as they stumbled into the doorframe, slipping his hands beneath her dress to fondle that peachy ass he’d been dreaming about for months. A helpless whimper escaped him as his palms met only smooth, bare skin.

“Just take it off.” Bulma’s hands retreated from his shoulders to tug at the hem of her dress. 

Keeping his body pressed as close to hers as possible, Vegeta reached down to help her pull it up and over her head. 

He groaned, his arousal reaching painful proportions, as he took in the sight of her, completely bare save for her white sneakers. The thought that she had shown up at his door naked beneath that little red dress nearly undid him before they even got started. 

Bulma’s knees thudded against the floor, and then she was looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes. Smiling sweetly, she raised one hand to massage his aching cock over his sweats. 

_“Fuck.”_

She tugged his waistband down just enough to plant open-mouthed kisses on his lower belly, below the bandages, wetting his skin with her tongue. 

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” she sighed, nipping at his tender flesh one last time before looping her fingers beneath his waistband. With a single tug, they fell downwards, and he kicked them aside. 

Bulma’s soft little hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking gently as she guided him to her mouth. 

She teased him with the flat of her tongue for a moment before sucking him into her welcoming heat. Her contented moan vibrated all the way down to his toes as she planted her hands on his ass, pulling him closer. She gagged a little, but didn’t pull back, taking him as far as she could into her throat. 

Vegeta tangled his hands in her hair, torn between letting his eyes roll back in ecstasy and keeping them focused on the vision that was Bulma on her knees, her pretty pink lips wrapped around his cock. 

As much as he wanted her to keep going, he wasn’t anywhere near ready for this to be over. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he tugged her backwards until he slipped from her mouth. Her ample chest heaved as she drew in a much-needed breath. 

“Get on the bed.” He offered her his hands to help her stand, tempted to toss her onto his bed himself, but afraid to push his healing body too far. Nothing would be allowed to spoil this moment.

His eyes stayed glued to the sway of her ass as she sauntered over to his bed. Bulma toed off her sneakers before crawling on her hands and knees to place herself right in the center, waiting for him. 

Vegeta followed without hesitation. Hovering over her on his knees, he grasped both her thighs and yanked her towards him, smirking at her surprised gasp. 

Hands pressed under her bent knees, he sat back and just admired her for a moment, spread out on his bed like an offering. She was all soft curves and pink skin and hooded eyes, looking him over like she was starving and he was a five course meal.

Folding her knees back against her chest, he opened her wider, back arching as he leaned down to drag his tongue through her glistening folds. 

Her helpless moans and the trembling of her thighs beneath his palms were everything he could have hoped for. He wanted to hear her again and again, to feel her coming apart beneath his touch. 

Looking up from between her thighs, he watched her changing expressions as he zeroed in on the spot he knew would make her lose control. 

“Oh…GOD.”

She threw her head back against the pillows, fingers tugging on his hair as he flicked his tongue repeatedly over that one perfect spot. He released one of her legs to rest on his shoulder and slipped first one, then a second finger into her tight heat. She was so wet for him, they slid in easily. He curled them until he found the place inside that drew a long gasp from her lips, her inner walls clamping around his fingers like a vice. 

“Shit, you’re gunna make me come, Vegeta.”

He groaned against her, redoubling his efforts, until she arched and writhed beneath him. Her grip on his hair tightened until it was almost painful, as she coated his hand and face with the evidence of her pleasure. 

“Oh my god. Fuck, that was amazing.”

Vegeta couldn’t have agreed more. He could gladly spend the rest of his days bracketed by her soft thighs with the taste of her arousal on his tongue. 

Her hands grasped at his arms, his hands, tugging at him urgently. 

“Please,” she whimpered as he crawled up the length of her body, slotting his hips against hers. 

Taking his aching cock in hand, he dragged it along her soaked folds, coating himself, before pressing forward. Bulma’s legs hooked around his hips, urging him on until he was buried to the hilt inside her. 

Vegeta froze, dropping his face into the curve of her neck as he fought for control. She felt too good. Too perfect. Her long limbs held him close, her body embracing him in every way possible. 

If he’d had any concept of what home felt like, this would be it. 

Her soft cries caressed his ears as he started to move, snapping his hips against hers. His ribs ached with every movement, but somehow, the pain only intensified the pleasure. 

Vegeta groaned as the pressure building at his core grew beyond the point of no return. This was going to be over far too soon. 

“Fuck, Bulma, I can’t…” he gasped through gritted teeth. 

She shushed him gently, cradling his jaw between her hands. 

“I want you to come for me. Okay, badman?”

“GOD.”

He pulled out just as his release crashed down on him, painting the soft skin of her belly. Marking her. She kissed him hungrily, swallowing the last of his cries. 

Vegeta couldn’t stifle a groan as he gingerly rolled onto his back. His ribs throbbed beneath the bandage in time with his racing heart, but he was feeling far too euphoric to care. 

He reached for Bulma, and she tucked herself into his side, one long leg slung over his. They lay like that for several minutes, catching their breaths as they floated down from cloud nine. A tinkling laugh broke the silence, and Vegeta cracked open one eye to look at her smiling face. 

“What is it, woman?”

“I was just thinking…all of this happened because I commented on your picture,” she explained, trailing her fingertips up and down his abdominals. “It’s like, every fangirl’s ultimate fantasy.”

Vegeta chuckled, pulling her even closer. 

“Still a fan?” he asked, giving her a lopsided grin.

“You have _no_ idea. I think I might be in love.”

With a playful growl, he rolled her underneath him again, aching ribs be damned. 

“Now, why don’t you show me exactly how bad you can be, my badman,” she purred in his ear, her limbs curling around him like vines. 

And he did. Being bad had never felt so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all she wrote, friends. Thank you so much for reading and for all your amazing feedback! 
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr (1VulgarWoman) and twitter (@1Vulgar).


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